Utroque
by Shiraoi
Summary: He drops her hands. MugenxFuu Collective.
1. Asper: violent, fierce, rough

**Samurai Champloo**

**Genre: Romance/General**

**Type: In-Progress**

**Pairing: MugenxFuu**

**Title: Utroque (from both sides)**

**Summary: **He kissed her in the middle of a sentence.

(drabbles collection; angst, romance; mugenxfuu)

**xx**

He kissed her in the middle of a sentence.

It wasn't planned, and he doesn't know why he did it, but it happened and it's done now and he can't take it back. They were fighting, and she was yelling (screaming), and all he could think about was how much he wanted her to shut up, how loud she was—how close they were. Him looking down, her looking up; almost chest to chest, nose to nose; mouths so close their breath blew hot against each another's faces; eyes so narrowed, intense, and demanding they scorched each other raw.

There was nothing gentle about it.

It was rough, harsh; insistent and full of frustration. He pulled her forward, kissed her hard, made her forget the topic of conversation. And she pulled back, kissed harder; reached for him angrily while fisting red fabric and digging deep.


	2. IGNEUS: fiery, ardent, burning

**Samurai Champloo**

Genre: Romance/Angst

Type: In-Progress

Pairing: MugenxFuu

Title: Utroque (from both sides)

Summary: His eyes rake over her lazily, all the way up to her face, and he stays there, watching.

(drabbles collective; angst, romance; mugenxfuu)

** xx **

"You ripped my kimono." She says hotly, hoisting up the offended garment and making a show of revealing the torn cloth.

It's small, starting from the hem and going up just so; a sliver of frayed fabrics in purples, and pinks, and blues.

His eyes rake over her lazily, all the way up to her face, and he stays there, watching.

"How?" He asks, sometime later, with a raised brow.

There is a collective silence filled with deadpan looks.

"What do you mean, _'how'_?" Her tone is accusatory, blunt, and she pokes him hard in the chest, accenting every word: "You-ripped-my-kimono."

And he remembers the two of them alone in the damp teahouse corridor just moments ago, with his desperate touch and her silky skin. A kimono hem snagged on a wayward nail because of impatient insistence.

"So?" He replies, looking bored and sipping sake, then his mouth goes wry and his eyes darken. "It's look better like that, anyway."

"No, it doesn't!" She flushes, noticeably (secretly pleased), but fixes him with a sharp gaze. "How am I supposed to walk around with a rip in my dress?"

He just stares at her for a moment with that penetrating gaze of his, making her feel exposed, and unsettled, and

"Like this." He smirks, ripping fabric and making it cut upward, almost to her thigh.

And suddenly the air is too hot and too humid and she drags him away from the table and back out into the corridor.


	3. Cassus: worthless, useless, vain

**Samurai Champloo**

**Genre: Romance/Angst**

**Type: In-Progress**

**Pairing: MugenxFuu**

**Title: Utroque (from both sides)**

**Summary: **Because she is all he needs. MugenxFuu.

**xx**

Every time he leaves, every time he goes, her words never falter and her smile never fades:

_"Where are you going?" She will say, each time acting as though she does not already know the answer._

_And he will reply, "Nowhere." with that same crooked, lecherous grin._

When the screen slides shut quietly behind him, her words do falter (they die completely) and her smile does fade and she hates him for finding happiness (however brief, however untrue, however _meaningless_) in the arms of another woman.

And she never knows (never will know) that right outside that very door, night after night, he stands there breathing deep and flexing fists, hating _himself _for the very same reason.

(Because she is all he needs.)


	4. SIGNUM: seal, sign, indication

**Samurai Champloo **

Genre: Romance/Angst 

Type: In-Progress 

Pairing: MugenxFuu 

Title: Utroque (from both sides) 

Summary: She likes to leave marks. MugenxFuu. 

** xx **

She likes to leave marks. 

Big, swooping scratches that span the length of his back; harsh bite marks--one, two, three--in the dip of his neck; tiny, teasing bruises both here and there that on any other person would be enormously innappropriate. 

And he doesn't mind, because he leaves marks of his own. His scent, his touch, his everything. It stays with her long after they've parted, much like his bruises and the fading outline of her teeth in his skin. 

_ "I want you to remember this." Fuu would look at him, with her cheeks flushed, hair down and tossled, eyes dark and wild and predatory. She'd dig her nails into the tanned, muscular flesh of his shoulders and kiss the pulse above his collarbone before quietly biting down, causing him to hiss needily. _

"When you're with someone else, when you're alone, when we're not together--" She would rise up and meet his heavy, pleasured-riddled gaze and whisper against the soft skin of his mouth, "I want you to think of this, and think of me." 

And he'd laugh darkly, pulling her closer, feeling the sting in his shoulder and loving it--loving her. Because there isn't someone else anymore, and hasn't been for a while. But she doesn't know that, and he won't tell her just yet, not until he's ready and he's sure. 

Because, oh, he loves the marks she likes to leave and knows they'll steadily fade when she realizes that he waits for, and wants, only her. That she doesn't have to mark him to prove anything, that the words 'mine' were clearly stamped on his heart the moment she slid her hands across his skin. 


	5. Placidus: quiet, still, silent

**Samurai Champloo**

Genre: Romance/General

Type: In-Progress

Pairing: MugenxFuu

Title: Utroque (from both sides)

Summary: It crushes his heart. MugenxFuu. 

(drabbles collection; angst, romance; mugenxfuu)

**xx **

The first thing he notices is blood, a long streaming vision of crimson that snakes its way across the earth and stops just short of his sandals. It glows, dark and shimmering against the firelight of a dying pyre's embers, and he chokes on his tongue, calloused hands shaking at his sides while he continues to stare, watching in silence as time stands still and his heart momentarily stops beating.

Then it's the color of her skin, the look on her face, the reddish tinge smeared over the flowers of her kimono, that brings him back to reality, his stomach lurching painfully into the narrow opening of his throat.

No.

_No, no, no, no, no, no--_

In an instant, he is there at her side, swallowing around every word he can't bear to say and staring into the fading light of her eyes. His knees sink into the cool earth, twitching slightly as they come in contact with the pooling scarlet that steadily creeps outward, onward. She says nothing in return to his presence, only a minute tilt of her head in his direction accompanied by a fragile, broken smile.

It crushes his heart. 

"I can save you," He hoarsely growls, moving to press his hand carefully over her wounds, a delicate cupping of fingers laid desperately over her slender abdomen,"_Goddamn it,_ I can save you!"

But she just continues to smile, face pale as the moon and just as calm, her eyes shutting for longer than they should before reopening again.

"You can't." comes after a while, sounding like wind slipping through the leaves of trees, and her hand slips away to cup his face, leaving a trail of reddened fingerprints in its wake.

"Fuck, you." He whispers pleadingly to the ground through gritted teeth with a strained voice, bile settling at the back of his throat as her grip on him becomes weaker and weaker, her breathing shallower and shallower. And then he moves closer to her, horrified by the lack of heat radiating from her body, letting her settle into the comfort of his lap.

"_Fuck--_"

"Shhh," her forehead presses into the groove just south of his jaw and her hands reach for him.

Eyes closed, they sit there in silence on the cold ground, two intermingled bodies sharing the same air, . . until he is all that's left.

When her hand slips from his, the burning sensation digging into the back of his eyes intensifies and he draws her in closer, as close as he can, and buries his face in her hair, his shoulders drooping hopelessly in the deafening silence.

And there he weeps inconsolably until the sunrise stains the sky a bitter and brutal red.


	6. INQUIRO: ask, examine, search

**Samurai Champloo**

Genre: Romance/General

Type: In-Progress

Pairing: MugenxFuu

Title: Utroque (from both sides)

Summary: From behind, she advances. MugenxFuu.

(drabbles collection; angst, romance; mugenxfuu)

** xx**

The metal of his sword makes a thick, scraping sound as it slides lazily out of its holster and into the mid-afternoon air. His hand is wrapped securely around the handle and he grins darkly when he sees the scratches covering both ends. Right, left, up, down--anywhere and everywhere.

As if he would have it any other way.

"Do you know why you always swing that sword of yours around?"

Somewhere to the left, she stands with her hands on her hips, looking indignant and annoyed in the usual fashion reserved only for moments like this, when the two of them are within shouting distance of each other and his weaponry is involved.

Eyes narrow, and he drags a calloused finger up the edge of dinged silver, frowning when it fails to cut his finger, or even leave a mark. Dulled, ragged, old, over-used, useless.

Falling apart.

"Because I can," He says later, aggravated with himself and with the weapon in his hands, the one that's steadily beginning to show its age and lose its purpose. The one that's just a fight away from becoming another scrap of metal in a rusted, forgotten pile.

"Because you can't do anything else."

From behind, she advances. Her hand snakes just south of his belly buttom and stops, flat against his lower abdomen, just low enough to have his hands itching. He can feel the heat of her body seeping into him and his blood rushes, pulse quickens, teeth grit a little bit tighter, "Can you?"

Her voice is so close, and he forces himself to not react, to not shiver against the breeze that creeps through the fabric of his clothing when her breath hits him square in the back. Keep composure, keep control. Focus, damn it, focus.

"Let's find out."

Quicker than the wind sneaking through the trees, he turns on her, a smile on his face that says he's a moment away from proving her wrong.

_And she hasn't asked since._


	7. Refero: to carry, bring back, return

**Samurai Champloo**

Genre: Romance/General

Type: In-Progress

Pairing: MugenxFuu

Title: Utroque (from both sides)

Summary: He drops her hands. MugenxFuu.

(drabbles collection; angst, romance; mugenxfuu)

Longer than usual, but I figure it's due.

** xx**

She's sitting on the ground, hands covering her eyes and forehead, when he looks over his shoulder to make sure she's still walking behind him. They're making their way up a long dusty road, trees looming high on either side with the shadows of their leaves cutting shapes into the dirt. Sun high in the sky and Cicadas chirping loudly, he takes a moment to rub the back of his neck and curse, just because he can.

The fact that she's a good two hundred feet away tells him she's been back there for a while.

Funny, he thinks, how he didn't notice the lack of footsteps.

Turning back, he just stands there and looks at her, squinting against the harsh rays of the sun. By now, her head is raised and she's looking in his direction, although he can't really see her expression from so far away.

She sighs, knowing he probably won't believe her - or care - and shouts in his direction.

"I twisted my ankle."

He catches half of it, but a wind suddenly picks up and carries away their conversation along with a cloud of dust and he's left turning his head slightly, feet already in motion.

"What?"

She groans and feels ridiculous, her head bowing for a split second before popping backward, face toward the sky, sun bright against her eyelids.

"I _said,_" her voice is louder than it should be now that he's less than ten feet away, and when she reopens her eyes to see his shadow looming over her, blocking out the sun, the volume of her words drops entirely and she clears her throat," I ... twisted my ankle."

His eyes go from her face to her ankle, taking in its swollen, reddish appearance, and how it's twice the normal size. He frowns and kneels, tanned fingers reaching outward as he takes it gently in his hands, feeling for imperfections. A part of him feels like laughing, but instead he just grins slowly, one side of his mouth jerking upward into a half-smirk.

"You would," is his only response, fingers wrapping around the bone and squeezing.

"Are you trying to break it?" She promptly hisses through gritted teeth at the pressure of his fingertips on her skin and resists the urge to kick him away, "Squeezing is not going to make it heal faster!"

"You're such a whiny ass, you know that." He lets go of her, satisfied with what he finds there and sits back on the balls of his feet, deciding something.

A flock of birds shoot over head, wings fluttering, and neither of them saying anything for a moment.

"Give me your hands."

She blinks at him, looking at her hands in her lap, "What, why?"

A roll of the eyes, "Just do it."

"_Fine._"

She holds out both hands, palms up and inviting, only to have his bigger, calloused ones take hold of them and steadily hoist her to her feet. Standing there close, with him much taller and her much shorter, their hands still together, he makes a strangled sound at the back of his throat that sounds strangely like annoyance and knows he's going to regret this decision somewhere down the road.

He drops her hands.

"What was that for? _Mugen--!_"

Without effort, he picks her up bride style and starts walking, making a point to keep an eye on the road ahead instead of the incredulous expression now painted on her face. In two-point-five seconds she's going to start ranting and raving, he can feel it.

Instead, she says three words. Three dark, dangerously-close-to-being-menacing words, that do nothing to phase him.

"Put. me. _down._"

He pins her with his eyes, tightening his hold on her just slightly so that she gets the point. He speaks in a firm, but rough, tone and bites the words out as if it physically pains him to be this forthcoming.

"You twisted your ankle. Normally, I wouldn't give a rat's ass, but instead of having to listen to your bitch ass complain the rest of the way, I thought I'd save us both a little time and just carry you."

She opens her mouth, but he continues.

"It's the one time I'm actually going to do something nice for you, so just shut your mouth. And enjoy it."

His mouth twitches afterward, and she stares at it unconsciously, suddenly aware of his hands around the backs of her thighs, circled around her back. It's a comfortable feeling, and she turns her head into his chest to hide the gentle smile that ends up working it's way onto her face. She'd kiss his cheek if they were standing, but simply sighs instead, causing him to flick his eyes in her direction.

"Thank you," is her soft reply, accompanied by a thankful grin and a rosy tint to her cheeks.

He scoffs and rolls his eyes, pretending he isn't pleased, and keeps on walking, pulling her a little closer to his body every step of the way.


End file.
